


86412

by isabeau



Category: VR.5
Genre: Gen, Kinda old fic (pre-2005)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-01
Updated: 2005-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-18 07:35:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isabeau/pseuds/isabeau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Committee tries to Persuade Oliver to cooperate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	86412

"Prisoner 86412," the voice droned. The voice, Oliver had long since decided, did nothing but drone. "You are being detained, for the abduction and murder of Sydney Bloom--"

"Shut up," Oliver muttered.

The voice hesitated. "Prisoners obey orders." It was an angry drone now, sharp with irritation and weariness, but very obviously not a recording. "They do not give them. Continuing. --detained also for the willful disregard for life, health, and property of an agent of the Committee--"

"You might as well stop." Oliver said, a little louder. "I've heard it all before. You're getting scratchy around the edges."

"--if you cooperate," the voice continued doggedly, "we will spare your life. We will spare the life of your friends. You will be permitted freedom. If you continue to refuse, we will continue to punish you."

Oliver spat into the darkness, and said nothing.

The door to his cell opened, and after complete darkness even the shallow light of the corridor was blinding. Someone came in and shut the door most of the way. "Prisoner 86412," the someone said softly. It was a voice Oliver recognized but couldn't quite place. Committee, of course.

"I am not a number," Oliver said mockingly. "I am a free man."

"Why do you cause trouble for yourself, Sampson?" The voice was sympathetic, carefully manipulative. "If you stop fighting, stop arguing, it will be so much better for you." Pleading, now, undertones of desperation, of concern. Evidently they wanted him to think he had a friend.

Oliver smiled, humorless and feral. The tensing of bruised muscles and torn skin hurt, but he ignored the pain. "Don't bother. I'm not going to help you, even if you say please."

"Tell me where they are. You know where the Blooms went, where they ran to. They must have told you where their hiding places are."

"Why do you think they would trust me that much? I'm Committee."

"You saved their lives."

"I won't betray them now."

"I give you my word they will not be harmed."

Oliver laughed hollowly. "Why do you think I should trust you? You're Committee."

"Tell us where they are, and you will have freedom."

"I know how it works. A restricted job, perhaps as a postal clerk; constant surveillance; phone taps, constant threat of Committee action. There is no freedom that comes from retiring from the Committee, particuarly forced retirement."

"Tell us." The friendly facade was gone, replaced by anger.

"Go to hell."

A punch to the face sent a fierce spasm of pain down the left side of Oliver's face. If he hadn't been so tightly bound, he would have absorbed some of the shock by reeling backwards. Oliver grunted and shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears.

"We will get that information," the other man hissed, one way or another." He spun on his heel and stalked out.

"It was a pleasure meeting you," Oliver called out after him. "I'm afraid I didn't catch your name though."

Silence, which was pretty much what he expected, and then the voice began droning again: "Prisoner 86412. You are being detained..."

Oliver shrugged philosophically and closed his eyes in the darkness.  



End file.
